


the other guy

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix gets into a bar fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the other guy

So, you get into a bar fight. An ex happens to be in the same bar as you and, what’s worse, his new boyfriend is with him. And he doesn’t realise that you’re in the bar until the two of you are stood side-by-side, waiting to be served. And let’s say it’s more than a little tense when the two of you notice each other.

Next thing you know, there’s a glass being smashed on your head.

It’s a dirty fight and let’s just say you get the upper hand. You beat your ex and his new boyfriend to two bloody pulps before someone runs forwards to pull you off. You take quite the beating yourself, but you don’t look half as bad. You manage to escape the bar and you hobble home.

Of course, Locus is waiting for you. Of course, he finished work early tonight.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest and a glare on his face. An eyebrow quirks when he sees the blood on your face, the cuts on your knuckles.

You snort as you pass him, making a beeline for the freezer. “You should see the other guys.”

"Guys?" Locus says, turning to watch as you fish the ice cubes from the bottom drawer of the freezer.

"Yeah." You wrap the cubes in a dish cloth and press it to your eye, wincing as you do. "Ran into my ex - y’know, Washington. Yeah, he was there with his new boyfriend. Didn’t go down well."

"I take it you started it."

"Maybe. I said something, Wash smashed his drink over my head. I beat the shit of them."

"Not before they beat you."

You growl.

Locus crosses the kitchen and stands in front of you. You glare at him. He bats away your hand and the ice pack before he takes your chin and tilts your head from side to side. He’s frowning.

"You have glass in the cuts," he says, turning away. You have a first aid kit beneath the sink. He goes for it. "Sit down."

"It’s fine -"

“ _Sit. Down._ ”

You do so, but you’re pouting like a petulant child.

It takes a while to pull the glass from your head. Locus passes you the last bottle of vodka the two of you have and you sip it, trying to let the burn of alcohol distract you from the pieces of glass being pulled from your forehead. Every piece of glass pulled free is placed in a bowl on the side of the counter. There are dozens of tiny little shards that you never would’ve noticed.

"He got you good," Locus says once he’s gotten all the glass out. He runs a cloth under the tap, wash down your face before wrapping a gauze bandage around your head.

"Like I said," you smirk, chugging down the last of the vodka, "He looks worse."

"I don’t doubt it."


End file.
